Tongue Tied
by Julia451
Summary: How does a man who's never found it easy to express his emotions ask the woman he loves to marry him? My theory of how Egon Spengler proposes to Janine Melnitz, and how their friends react to the news. Egon/Janine one-shot, post-RGB series.


Egon Spengler always considered himself a fast learner, yet it somehow took him years to learn the most important lesson for a Ghostbuster: _If you're not afraid, it can't hurt you_. He'd always been afraid of the effect Janine had on him, afraid of what would happen if he responded, if he gave in and accepted it, if he let her get too close. Afraid of exposing himself to something as dangerous and unstable as love, something he could neither predict nor control. Afraid of the effect it would have on his mind and work.

It was almost as terrifying as falling hundreds of stories to his certain death, but just as the Bogeyman had forced him to face his fears then, Janine's so-called "fairy godmother" had forced him to face this fear. Once he'd confronted it, once he'd recognized, accepted, and confessed that he loved her, it was easy to do the sensible thing and start dating her. He didn't know at the time where it would lead, whether things would work out or not; he only knew that, as long as he didn't hold back in fear, neither of them would get hurt.

Egon's first hypothesis (based on his knowledge of his and Janine's personalities and how well they worked together) was that it would work out but not last forever. It would just "be fun" for a while, as he put it the day it began – interesting, but ultimately harmless. After a few weeks, he was confident he'd been right. After a few months, however, he found himself sincerely wondering – not in fear but in pure curiosity – how long it _would_ last...

… which eventually led to asking himself, _And then what?_ If it didn't last forever, what were the alternatives? If they broke up, what would change? Nothing except that they would both be free to find someone else. There was no point to keeping the opportunity for such alternatives open. If he pictured himself in a relationship at all, Egon couldn't picture himself with anyone but Janine, and he couldn't stand picturing Janine with anyone else. Yes, his feelings for her were such that he hated the thought of seeing her attentions bestowed on another man (but he'd known that, at least subconsciously, since the day he first met Paul Smart). Well, if there was no possibility of him seeking a relationship with someone else, and if he had no desire to see Janine with someone else, there was only one logical outcome.

A few years ago, of course, he would have recoiled in horror from such a fate, but that was before he'd learned to open up and let himself love Janine. He'd already taken a major step that day by the river, and he could anticipate taking the next with far less anxiety than he'd felt when he first asked her out. He'd gotten used to the idea by now, and as Janine was already his wife in everything but name, he could picture them making it official without dreading the change. If they were in love, it only made sense for them to marry.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one to come to this conclusion. Peter finally asked him as they sat alone at the breakfast table one morning after he came into work with Janine when he was going to stop delaying the inevitable and get engaged. Egon answered in complete honesty that he was delaying nothing, that he was fully aware that was the next step, but Janine hadn't said anything about getting engaged yet; when she did, he was ready.

Peter stared wide-eyed at him for a few seconds as if he'd just said the sun revolved around the Earth. Over the next minute or two, Egon learned that – for reasons he couldn't understand but was determined to research, find the origins of, and thoroughly discredit – _he_ was the one expected to initiate that ritual. He would have laughed if the suggestion didn't push the willing suspension of disbelief beyond its breaking point. Marriage he could handle, but asking a woman to marry him? There was absolutely, undoubtedly, unquestionably, inarguably no task in this or any other universe he was less qualified for. He'd been born with no connection between his mouth and his emotions – it was physically impossible for him to articulate the latter through the former except under the adrenaline rush of a life-threatening emergency. Only someone as dim as Peter Venkman would even remotely entertain the ludicrous idea of him trying to tell Janine he wanted to marry her! The potential for it resulting in unsalvageable disaster was too high for that to even be an option!

"I think that would be ill-advised, Peter," was how he put it.

"Hey, I don't make the rules, Egon."

Egon didn't know what rules Janine followed, but if they said _she_ was allowed to be the one pursuing _him_ from the start – contrary to the classic rules – surely they said she was allowed to make the final, biggest move, as well. He'd always assumed that was how she would prefer it, given how she'd always acted towards him. If Janine wanted to marry him, wouldn't she say so? She'd never held back before. It would be easier on both of them...

That last thought made him uncomfortable for some reason, and he shook it off. "This isn't the Middle Ages – I believe the 'rules' have changed."

Peter shrugged with a sigh of disappointed resignation as he rose from the table. "Fine, but you 'do set a scandal on her sex,' if you ask me." He headed for the stairs, mumbling just loudly enough under his breath to be audible, "Haven't you made her chase after you long enough?"

Chase after him?! He'd stopped running from her the night he confessed he loved her... hadn't he? Was he still holding back? Was he still afraid after all? Was that the real reason he'd refused to picture himself being the one to ask? Egon tried to picture it now: him, proposing to Janine. No, he wasn't afraid – he was completely paralyzed with terror. He couldn't have that. Not again. He hated letting fear, letting _any_ emotion, control his actions. He had to be stronger than that. He had to stop hiding and face this fear, too. There was only one way to do that...

If he was going to do this, he was determined to do it right. Egon knew the standard protocol for such situations, and he intended to adhere to it perfectly, leaving no room for error. One night after the office closed for the day, he took the short route to Janine's apartment and made it in time to surprise her... and to take a ring from her jewelry box, trace it, put it back, and slip the paper into his pocket long before she arrived. He wasn't sure where this rule had come from, but who was he to question it? He only hoped Janine found the gesture romantic and not boring and meaningless.

He supposed making the gesture meaningful and memorable was his job. That was easier said than done. He looked carefully over every ring in the shop without knowing what he was supposed to be looking for. The young salesgirl smiled at him like a doctor who recognized the symptoms of a common malady and, without any prompting from him, explained in the professional but gentle, confident but not condescending tone of a good professor that the engagement ring shouldn't outshine the wedding ring, should have a unique and interesting design, and that its goal was to symbolically show her how much she was worth to you. With this in mind, he chose one consisting of two intertwined circles of gold that divided at the top into two rows of five sharp ovals (ten altogether) that looked almost like leaves, alternating with a tiny diamond and a tiny sapphire in the center of each so that there were five of each stone; to Egon, it represented not only beauty and strength existing in perfect harmony (her) but two dissimilar souls uniting by embracing each other's differences (them).

He next bought two tickets to a play she was curious to see, whose plot sounded romantic and dark enough to create the proper mood. He had his suit cleaned and pressed. He went to the library and consulted all the experts, from William Shakespeare to Jane Austen, to figure out how this was done, taking notes on what worked and what didn't work and why.

When he thought he had a good composite picture and a list of all necessary items to cover, he began writing the speech, covering sheet after sheet of paper with draft after draft and burning them all as soon as they became obsolete (he had no desire to deal with the looks, whispers, jokes, and questions that would result should his friends get wind of his plans). Sometimes, he was resolved to keep it short and to the point; others, he panicked to leave anything unsaid and made it longer and longer as he added more and more details and elaborations. Sometimes, he doubted himself so much that he filled it with quotes that sounded appropriate, recognizable, and more elegant than anything he could ever come up with; others, he was ashamed of using anybody's words but his own and even tried to make sure nothing sounded similar to anything Janine might have read, seen, or heard elsewhere. Sometimes, he admitted and apologized for how nervous he was, thinking she'd find it flattering; others, he was convinced she'd lose all respect for him if she noticed he was afraid and did all he could to avoid that impression.

He tried starting it formally, with a direct declaration of love, then informally, recounting a story from their past. He tried making it clever and snarky one minute, then serious and sincere the next. He tried making a lot of metaphors involving hunting and trapping, but they never came out right. He found himself trying to include details that it turned out even _he_ didn't know, like precisely when and how he fell in love with her, or how he'd felt when he'd first noticed her affection for him. Curious, he wanted to examine those points more closely, but they would have to wait (if this failed, they would be irrelevant anyway).

Somehow, Egon got the speech to a point where he felt satisfied that he wouldn't embarrass himself. He briefly considered just leaving it with the ring in her desk where she'd find it one morning (a common enough practice in these cases, he knew, and more his style) but decided that would defeat the purpose of proving he was brave enough for her. He had to face this head on, not hide behind a piece of paper. He wanted her to hear it straight from him.

That required hours of walking around the park and university campus, memorizing every sentence to the letter until he could recite it in his sleep. No test he'd ever studied for had received such vigorous attention. He carefully planned, timed, and memorized every expression, inflection, gesture, and posture he'd use at every point. He even planned alternatives for possible different scenarios (if they were running late and it was darker, if it was windy, if he ended up standing on her left or right, if it rained and they ended up sitting down indoors...). He locked himself in the lab for hours, practicing in front of the small mirror on his workbench (being careful to blow something up every half hour or so to deflect suspicion from the guys) until he knew every word, every motion, every single detail better than he knew the periodic table of elements. He'd never taken an exam without being absolutely sure beforehand that there was absolutely nothing he could do to better prepare himself for it, and this was no exception.

If he was nervous in the days leading up to the play, he didn't notice – he chose not to ask. He did occasionally ask himself what he could have to be nervous about. His experience and objective analysis of the situation told him there could only be one obvious result, that nothing he said could prevent it, but his personal vanity (more precisely, his lack thereof, since it wasn't a question of intelligence or intellectual superiority) resisted this conclusion. Was he worried she would say, No (despite all the evidence she'd given him for years to the contrary)? That she might think it was presumptuous and insulting for him to suggest he was good enough for her and that she would be content to bind herself to him forever? Or was he worried she would say, Yes, and his life would never be the same again? He didn't know, and he didn't ponder it for long before his well-disciplined mind put it aside. Dwelling uselessly on things was not his custom. He would learn the answer soon enough...

The Saturday Janine drove up ready to leave for dinner wasn't a holiday or anything special, just a pleasant, warm April evening. Except for the small, easy-enough-to-ignore box in his left pocket, it was just another date. Egon could honestly say he didn't feel the least bit anxious during dinner or as they drove to the theater afterwards. He even smirked at one point and said, "You're beautiful when you drive," getting a punch in the arm as punishment for mentioning what nobody was ever to mention, regardless of the grin she was vainly trying to suppress.

As usual, Janine gripped his right arm as they walked into the lobby. Egon still couldn't feel her do that without recalling all the years it had stopped, when she had all but stopped pursuing him, and wondering how any supernatural force could have prevented him from noticing such a drastic change in her behavior. It had been over a year since they'd trapped her fairy godmother and a few months since, to Janine's immense joy, they'd been able to restore her to her natural appearance, but there were still moments when he shuddered at how close he'd come to losing her. As he often did, he looked directly down into her blue eyes for a second as she stood there in a tight, little black dress, chattering on in her thickly Brooklyn-accented voice about how excited she was to finally see _The Castle Spectre_, to remind himself he did indeed have her back.

"Wow, best seats in the house!" Janine said as they took their seats in the center of the front row of the lowest balcony. "What's the occasion?"

Her sarcastic tone enabled Egon to answer, without missing a beat, "The manager gave us lifetime discounts in gratitude for those two Class 5 free repeaters we removed last year."

"Not bad. What are the chances a ghost will haunt a resort in Hawaii someday?"

"Hmmm... given the number of battles that have taken place there throughout its history, and the distance to the nearest area of significant PKE activity, and the stories of gods we now know to be spirits in its mythology..." Egon's calculations were cut off by the lights dimming, and, as the last traces of conversation around them faded to whispers and then disappeared, he finished by signing, _About 30-to-1 – somewhat promising._

_How thrilling_, Janine signed back, grinning and rolling her eyes.

Janine had certainly improved since the day she'd first told him how interesting she found sign language (when she'd spelled her name as J-S-M-I-M-E), he'd offered to teach her, and she'd eagerly accepted. Egon had still been uneasy about dating her back then, and he'd found it a great way to spend time with her without feeling intimidated or out of his element. For her part, Janine had a lot of fun both learning it and using it with him around their colleagues (and smirking as Peter pulled Ray aside to translate).

They'd found a practical use for it, as well. Janine had learned quickly that the man who forgot it was dangerous to stand up on a moving rollercoaster also found it hard to remember it was rude to talk during shows people paid to come see. Egon couldn't passively watch anything without analyzing it. Whenever they went to see a movie, musical, or play, he found it almost impossible to resist the urge to point out some fact they'd gotten wrong, ask questions about some completely illogical move or plot point, or explain why something just wouldn't work. Janine attempted to restrain him as well as she could, given that she somehow found this quirk as endearing and "not boring" (as she put it) as everything else about him.

Then came the day he held his forehead in his hand and shook his head in frustration at a movie's ridiculously inaccurate depiction of an arborous genius loci. Janine tugged on his sleeve and, when he looked at her, signed, _What's wrong?_ There was just enough light for her to read his explanation of what they were doing wrong and for him to see her say they should have consulted the experts. From then on, it became a regular part of any performance they attended – he got to vent and question, she got to be amused or explain, and their neighbors got to watch their show in peace.

Tonight, they actually sat through almost four acts of _The Castle Spectre_ without any conversation. When the titular spectre finally appeared at the end of the fourth act, however, Egon shook his head in disappointment. _What?_ Janine asked him.

He slowly signed in reply, _Any terminal spirit killed under such violent circumstances and now driven by such powerful motivations would come back as a Class 7 specter, at least, but they've made her look no more powerful than a Class 5 phantom._

_Guess they thought it would be too scary for the audience_, Janine signed back. _I wonder what the original looked like?_

_Good question_, Egon signed next. _Full-torso apparitions are the only kind of ghost humans can portray without any special effects. If the circumstances are accurate, it's also possible the original might have taken on the form of a free roaming vapor._

Janine stifled a laugh, and Egon realized that, when she said "the original," she must have meant the first actress (whom history said gave an effectively horrifying performance), not the ghost that inspired the story. _You still think there was a real castle specter?_ she asked him.

_There must have been_, Egon replied. _Why else would Lewis have been so adamant about keeping it when everyone tried to convince him it was too unrealistic? He must have seen something that inspired it._

_He didn't claim it was real_, Janine reminded him. _Just scary._

_Who would have believed him?_ asked Egon. _That was a time when people were beginning to dismiss ghost stories as vulgar, unrespectable drivel that no sophisticated person would take seriously. Using real ghosts in stories had already become all but taboo._

_Mr. Crowley would have felt right at home_, Janine signed. The two of them laughed silently before he put his arm around her shoulders and they leaned back to watch the heroine and her corpulent guide run for their lives.

It wasn't until they were exiting the theater that Egon sensed his calm begin to waver. It was almost time. He couldn't put it aside any longer. Why did he suddenly feel so on edge, as if he hadn't known this was coming? His heart rate began to speed up noticeably as the import of what he was about to do flooded over him. He only hoped he didn't start shaking. It wasn't too late to back out. If he gave up the idea, no one would ever know...

"So, where to?" he heard Janine ask.

_If you're not afraid, it can't hurt you._ "Let's go for a walk."

"Where?"

"You'll see." Actually, he'd considered stopping for coffee first, but he now realized ingesting caffeine would be the most foolish thing he could do (assuming he could even put anything in his stomach right now). Besides, he needed to move and work off this nervous energy.

Egon silently repeated his speech to himself as he and Janine strolled down the sidewalk. She would have quickly recognized where they were going, but she didn't comment on it. She was beaming, however, as if reliving a pleasant memory as they approached the river. To make it official, Egon said, "This is the first place we stopped on our first date, remember?" as he placed his hands on the wooden railing.

Janine folded her arms on top of the railing and looked knowingly at him. "What date? Nobody went on a date that day."

Still grinning, Egon cleared his throat. "Well, as you know, after collecting further data, I revised my initial conclusion."

"Smart move." Janine grabbed his arm again, leaned against his shoulder, looked out over the water, and sighed as if there was no other place in the world she would rather be.

It was so peaceful, and they were both so comfortable – why should he disturb that? Because they couldn't stay here forever. Egon waited exactly ten seconds, took a deep breath, and straightened up, pulling slightly away from her in the same motion. _Just one chance_, he couldn't help thinking. _Make it count_. It took more effort and willpower for him to turn and face Janine now that it had taken to face Gozer. _Don't think, don't feel, just do it_. "Janine, we've known each other quite a long time, haven't we?" he began, just as he'd rehearsed. Good – his voice was nice and steady.

"I guess so."

Janine remained looking forward. Even though it wasn't in his script, Egon decided it was safe to follow her example and turned back to face the river. He instantly felt himself grow calmer. "We've been working together for years. We've been dating for over a year. There are few people I know as well as I know you."

"What an honor."

So far, so good. "I never predicted when Peter hired you that we'd end up here. When I first met you, you were just the only secretary brave enough to work for us and willing to stick by us whether business was dead or booming out of control."

"You're welcome."

"I know we don't show our appreciation for everything you do for us nearly enough." _Too fast – slow down, Egon_. "I, in particular, haven't always treated you the way you deserve..." He turned and looked at her again. Big mistake – she looked up at him, too, and the sight of her eyes seemed to blast all his composure away. He cleared his throat and tried to recover. "Even in an alternate timeline where you hated Christmas as much as Ebenezer Scrooge, when I needed you, you were still willing to help me..." Wait, wasn't this... no, he'd skipped everything about how relieved and happy he was to see her after the battle with Gozer! How much he regretted not properly thanking her for her token, how all he'd wanted to do afterwards was see her and tell her how they won!

Well, it was too late to go back now. Where had he left off? "When we found you after we let those thugs of Crime Lord's kidnap you..." That wasn't it! "... all I could think was how close I'd come to losing you. Up until then, it was the happiest moment of my life." What did he just say?! "Uh... the moment when we found you, that is."

"I know what you mean." Janine leaned against his chest and embraced him. He hadn't planned for this; in his mind, she remained standing, listening attentively until he finished. What had he been thinking?!

He gently pushed her away and held her shoulders as he continued. "I didn't notice how much you were coming to mean to me until... until..." He heard the words in his mind – _until the day I thought I was going to die on that rooftop during Ragnarok and I realized I would miss you more than anyone or anything_ – but it was like his tongue had forgotten how to form the sounds.

"Egon, you all right?" Janine began looking anxiously around her.

His perplexity at that seemed to restore his voice. "What is it?"

"Well, you look like you've seen a ghost."

That was all he needed! Half of their dates were always interrupted by just such an event. If that happened now... it would probably happen any minute... Egon shook his head. "No, no, nothing's wrong, I just..." _Don't get paranoid. Get ahold of yourself – you can do this!_ He closed his eyes and shook his head more vigorously, trying to get his mind back on track. When he opened them, it was like all his senses went into overdrive. He was overwhelmed by the sight of her eyes full of concern for him, the sound of his own rapid heartbeat, the scent of her perfume, the weight of the hand she placed on his shoulder. That was when it happened. His mind literally froze, all flowing thoughts turned solid and immovable. Every synapse in his brain seemed to stop firing, and every word of his carefully planned speech just disappeared from his memory, purged beyond recovery. Now he knew how computers felt when they crashed.

"Egon, what's gotten into you?"

He had to say something – it didn't matter what. "Janine, I..." How did he sound? How did he look to her right now? The thought made him unable to go on.

"You what?"

"I..." He gave up; it was clear to him now that he couldn't go on. His original hypothesis had been correct. He owed her an explanation, and his only goal now was to give it. He was physically unable to tell her, but maybe he could show her. Sighing in despair, Egon took the box out of his pocket and held it out to her. Janine started at the sight, as if he'd pulled out an armed bomb. "What's this?" she asked.

"You'll see," he managed to say before he handed it to her. His right hand felt strange once it was empty, and he gripped the railing by his side to counteract it.

Janine looked from the box to him as if unsure whether or not she was supposed to open it. He nodded once, and she lifted the lid and gasped when she saw what was inside, as if it was the last thing she expected. Egon waited for her to say something. She didn't speak, didn't move, didn't look up – he had no idea how to interpret that, so he didn't try. He could only assume it meant _he_ was supposed to say something.

Encouraged by his recent, brief but successful attempt at speech, he inhaled deeply and said, "Janine, I..." Once again, that was as far as he got. Years of conditioning made his brain resist any attempt to express any emotion. Egon wished something would attack them now – _that_ would force him to say it! As it was, all he could do was run his left hand through his hair, wiping the sweat from his brow, and adjust his glasses with the other.

Janine had looked up at him when he spoke, but she still didn't say a word. The expression on her face was unreadable. He tried again. "You..." Egon pinched the bridge of his nose as he choked on the word. His voice was useless; as he lowered his arm, he felt like it was a miracle he remembered how to use his hands. He balled them into fists, wishing he could strangle himself. This place and time seemed unsuitable for that, but he had to do something, take some sort of action!

He couldn't control his voice, but he could control his hands. He instinctively raised them and let the words he'd been desperately trying to say find their own escape through a different outlet. _Will you marry me?_ he signed.

Janine's only reaction was that her eyes widened a fraction. Egon waited, but, once again, nothing happened. He supposed, now that he'd made a thorough fool of himself, there was no reason to hold back. He began signing whatever came into his head, not questioning if it made him look weak or strong. _You know I'm no good at talking about this sort of thing, but that doesn't change how I feel. I love you. I know I didn't always show it in the past like I should have, but things have changed. I know better now. I know I'd never be happy with anyone else. You mean the world to me. I never want to lose you again. I want to marry you. What do you say? Will you marry me, Janine?_

Nothing. Maybe she hadn't understood him. Had he even taught her the sign for "marry"? He began spelling the question instead, but Janine held up her hand and shook her head. "No, no, I... I know what you said." He now noticed the corners of her mouth slowly curving upward into a smile, the incredulity fading from her eyes.

_Then what's your answer?_ Egon signed.

He stumbled and gripped the railing for support as she flung herself at him. He was forced to spin to keep from falling over as she pressed her lips against his and wrapped her arms around his neck. Once he was sure of his balance, Egon threw his arms around her as well and patiently waited until she was finished. When Janine released him and he got a clear view of her face, she looked like she was on the brink of exploding from excitement. Egon was so dazed by the impact and so dizzy from lack of breath that he didn't trust himself to draw any conclusion from her response. Gasping for air, he asked, "Was... was that a yes?"

Janine laughed as she opened the fist clenched around the small box, opened it again, removed the ring, tossed the box over her shoulder, and held the ring out to him. Egon smiled as he took it from her and then took her extended left hand. He was about to slide the ring over her finger but paused and asked, his eyebrow raised, "Are you sure about this?"

"Are _you_?" Janine asked challengingly, mirroring his expression.

"Sure enough."

"You always were the smart one."

"Give me some credit," said Egon, slipping the ring on her finger. "I'm not entirely clueless all the time."

He leaned forward to kiss her, but Janine held her hand up close to her eyes and squinted at the ring. "This isn't possessed by something that will destroy my apartment again, is it?"

"Just inspected it for the sixth time this morning," Egon truthfully assured her. Still, one could never be too careful. He raised her hand and looked closely at the cluster of gems. "We'll check it again at the firehouse tomorrow just to be sure."

"No rush," Janine said dismissively, putting her arms around him again. "We've got _a lot_ of celebrating to do tonight..."

* * *

><p>When the other three Ghostbusters woke up the next morning, they found their leader and their secretary, both fully dressed and perfectly groomed, sitting at the kitchen table. "You sure about this?" they heard Janine whisper.<p>

"It's the only way I can think of," Egon whispered in reply. "Unless you have a preference."

"Come on, how could I choose?"

"Exactly."

Peter strolled into the room with a sigh, shaking his head. His voice was dripping with disappointment as he groaned, "You two aren't supposed to be back here this early." He then pointed at Janine. "_You _aren't supposed to be here at all..." His tone suddenly changed. "It _is_ still the weekend, right?"

Egon and Janine stood up, the former moving around the corner of the table so that they were side by side. "I'm afraid this couldn't wait," he said with an odd grin. He put his arm around Janine's shoulders. "Gentlemen, we have some important business to discuss this morning."

"What business?" Winston asked as they all gathered around the table.

Janine picked up a bowl that everyone now saw contained three folded slips of paper. She held it out to them and said, "Everybody, take one."

The three newcomers looked at each other and shrugged, each realizing his companions didn't understand this anymore than he did, but when Ray reached in and took a slip without asking questions, the others followed suit.

"Now, open it and read it," Janine instructed them.

Still confused, Ray nonetheless opened his paper, and read aloud, "Best man."

"Give her away," said Peter.

"Master of ceremonies," said Winston, who looked up at Egon and Janine. "What are these?"

"Your roles in the wedding," Egon answered.

The three only paused long enough to blink and turn once to look at each other before turning forward again and instantly asking in unison, "Whose wedding?"

Egon and Janine looked helplessly at each other before turning back to their friends. "_Our_ wedding," they said together.

Ray was the only one who smiled as if he believed what he was hearing. Winston's jaw dropped, and Peter laughed, "Ha-ha, very funny, guys." The couple in question turned to each other again as he continued: "Great joke, great joke." Janine smirked as she turned away. "You really had us floored for a minute th-" He stopped there as Janine held up her left hand with the ring facing out.

All was still for a few seconds as the shocking revelation gradually sank in, the only movement a turn of the head here and there as they looked back and forth from Egon to Janine as if they didn't recognize them. Then, without warning, the couple found themselves surrounded by a flurry of flailing arms and raucous voices.

Everything blended together: "WOO-HOO!"

"Yes!"

"Congratulations!"

"It's about time!"

"I knew it!"

"I can't believe it!"

"How did this happen?"

"You're even more insane than I thought!"

"You could give us a little warning!"

"Where's the champagne and fireworks?"

"This is the craziest thing you've ever done!"

"When's the wedding?"

In the middle of the storm of hugs, back-slaps, and congratulations, Ray yelled triumphantly, "Hah, I told you so! You guys owe me twenty bucks!"

While Peter said something about how, technically, they were all right, Winston gently embraced Janine and said seriously, "Congratulations, Janine. You deserve it."

"Thanks, Winston."

"Way to go, Egon," said Ray, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Peter threw his right arm around Janine. "So, you finally wore him down, huh? Great job. Very impressive. Just remember, if he ever gives you any trouble..."

Winston grinned threateningly as he finished, "He'll have to deal with us," and elbowed her fiancé for emphasis. Egon looked nervously at Ray, but the latter only shook his head and held up his hands to say he couldn't avoid it.

"My heroes," said Janine.

"Don't get too cozy," Peter warned her. "That goes for you, too, ya' know."

"Yes, sir, Dr. Venkman," she promised.

"Good," said Peter, grinning from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas morning. "Now let's discuss the important stuff." He leaned his head closer to Janine. "You're gonna name the first kid after me, right?"

"Hey, no fair!" Winston said indignantly.

"Yeah!" Ray piped up as he stepped towards them. "I won the bet!"

"Too bad," Peter said calmly. "I called dibs."

Winston shook his head. "No, you didn't. You..."

Janine slipped away as the argument escalated and stood beside Egon, who put his arm around her again. They both smiled as they watched the highly amusing show. At length, Egon said, "I think we've just had our first taste of what the next few months will be like."

"Don't worry, I can handle them," Janine said confidently. To demonstrate, she stepped forward, her smile as wide as ever. "All right, time out, boys!"

Egon heard Ray say, "Tell 'em, Janine..." before all individual words were lost in a new cacophony.

Peter hadn't addressed Egon at all so far, but he now left the combat zone and stepped over to his friend. At first, all Peter did was stare at him, as if he were assessing the value of some commodity up for auction. Finally, his smile deepening, he held out his arm, just as he had that day on the roof as they prepared to do the unthinkable. Egon did likewise, and Peter clasped it supportively in his own.

"Knew you had it in you, smart guy," Peter told him, with a wink. With his free hand, he reached into his pocket. "Nice work," he said as he handed him the candy bar.


End file.
